


The Archer

by blankdomain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankdomain/pseuds/blankdomain
Summary: Inspired by Taylor Swift's The Archer.





	The Archer

_ Combat, I'm ready for combat _

_ I say I don't want that, but what if I do? _

_ 'Cause cruelty wins in the movies _

_ I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you _

Even with his blackout curtains Derek could tell it was bright outside when he was startled awake. The door to his apartment was slammed shut, followed with a thumping of shoes on the hardware floor. The kitchen sprung alive with the sound of pots and pans and cupboards being open and shut. He would have suspected a burglary and jumped from his bed to fight the intruder, but it was the smell of the noise that kept him in bed.

It was unmistakable. It smelled like maple wood, old shoes, curly fries, and Cora flowers. It smelled like Stiles. He had insisted they needed to have a garden in the backyard, and his newest addition was the flowers. 

The pack had started rebuilding the Hale house this summer and Stiles <strike>had</strike> has been there for everything. From choosing between marble and granite (but ultimately convincing Derek quartz was more sustainable) to the light switches. 

It had become routine to expect Stiles over at his apartment for early morning breakfast. Stiles argued it was the only way he could make sure Derek was eating and start planning more house chores in advance. 

Derek stood from his bed, and slipped on a pair of sweatpants that were laying on the floor from the previous night. He walked to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, and brushed away the morning breath. 

“The beast awakens!” Stiles was standing in front of the stove, eyeing the pancake with a type of concentration that is not probably needed. But he looked up to greet Derek and flash him a smile for a second.

It makes Derek’s stomach drop to the floor. Stiles standing in his kitchen shoeless, bed hair, and sleepy eyes makes him yearn. It's silly because Stiles is right in front of him, but he wants to be closer- wants to get the smell that makes him dizzy directly from the source. 

He keeps his distance.

“I thought you were taking today off?” he questioned.

Stiles looked over to give him a shrug and a tentative smile. “Yeah, well Scotty decided to ditch me for sex so I figured we might as well use the day.” 

It almost makes Derek taste sourness thinking he is Stiles last resource. He knows he is not, and knows it is immature of him to even question it. Stiles spends more time with him these days than anyone else. 

“What if we just spend the day here? I set up the game station you got me last night.” He says, walking over to the fridge. 

He gets the iced coffee from the fridge for Stiles and some orange juice for him. They move in a rhythm that looks practiced. Stiles reaches for two plates, while Derek goes under for cups. To the table and around for forks and napkins. They side step one another with hums and thank-you's. 

They both sit on the round breakfast table, digging into their meals like starving animals. 

“Can we order pizza later too, then?” Stiles asks licking off the syrup from his fingers. 

Derek stares mesmerized at his stupidly long fingers. 

“Derek?” Stiles asks after a beat.

“Yeah, sorry- yeah.” He mumbles, face flushed.

Stiles laughs, shoulders shaking. “Damn dude, if we add a noun to that we can almost make it a complete sentence.”

Derek sends a crumpled napkin flying to his face. 

_ Dark side, I search for your dark side _

_ But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here? _

_ And I cut off my nose just to spite my face _

_ Then I hate my reflection for years and years _

They had kissed once under a lamppost. They were both drunk and had spun in circles belly laughing until they could not breathe. It was past 11pm and the rest of the pack had gone home but Stiles wanted to dance under the moon. So he did, while Derek watched from the side with a wide smile. Stiles had pulled him onto the street and forced him to dance with him, only it turned more into spins. Derek was so happy it pained him. They had sat under the lamp post to rest, and Stiles had just stared at him for minutes. When Derek finally looked over at him, he saw Stiles smiling. A smile that reached his eyes and formed crinkles. It was impossible to not kiss him- he needed to kiss him. So he did. It would be cliche to say that he felt fireworks go off because he did not. 

It felt like he had kissed Stiles his entire life, like putting the last piece to the puzzle, like coming home. It was not fireworks, it was calmer than that. It was a sea breeze, and hot chocolate in the rain. He wanted to feel this calm forever. 

But they had been drunk. The next morning Derek woke up alone in his bed. He wanted to say something but Stiles acted like nothing had happened. Derek had wanted to ask if he remembered and if he didn't, he wanted to make him remember. 

He said nothing instead and kept it to himself. 

_ I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost _

_ The room is on fire, invisible smoke _

_ And all of my heroes die all alone _

_ Help me hold onto you _

“Dude, can you please try sucking a little less?” Stiles groaned. 

There was pizza boxes and coca-cola cans across the coffee table, now empty. It was dark outside but inside had never been brighter. 

Derek looked over at Stiles and glared at him. Stiles glared back.

“You could try sucking a little more,” Derek retorted with no real flame. 

“And embarrass myself like that? Never!” Stiles exclaimed. 

Derek threw his controller to the ground and stretched his arms above his head letting out a yawn. 

“Aw, it little wolf-bear tired?” Stiles teased, a small smile on his face. 

Derek went back to glaring. “I was going to offer you my couch but now I am throwing you out.” 

Stiles let out a puff and rolled his eyes. “As if, you love me too much. This couch has my butt initials tattooed.”

Derek said nothing, because it was true. Not just about the couch imprint. 

“Yeah, you’re lucky I am not calling the cops.” He said standing over to get the blankets from the hallway closet.

“You would never make my poor father come collect his 22 year old son from your house,” Stiles argued laughing. “I know all about your secret lunch meetings.”

Derek smiled. Again, Stiles was right. Derek had grown to respect John, and had spent enough time with him while Stiles was away at college to know he needed his sleep. 

“Goodnight, dork.” Derek said, turning off the lights in the kitchen. 

“Oh! Derek!” Stiles called after him. 

Derek turned to look at him lifting his eyebrows in response.

“Is the toothbrush I brought over last time still here by any chance?” 

Of course it was, it was sitting next to Derek’s because he liked to pretend it belonged there.

Derek nodded. 

“Nice! Goodnight, Sourwolf.” 

_ I've been the archer, _

_ I've been the prey _

_ Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling? _

_ But who could stay? _

He doesn’t have nightmares as often anymore. So when he wakes up gasping for air, it takes him a second to know it had just been that- a nightmare. It's strange how even that doesn’t make the pain dwindle. 

He was not there when the house went up in flames, so in his dreams it's always different. This time, he could see his mom trying to break open the window upstairs to lunge his little brother out. 

Derek began to cry. It hurts more to know that it had just been a nightmare. That he was not really ever there to help. It is the feeling of having smoke in his lungs and feeling guilty about it because he never did in the first place.

Stiles comes into his room quietly. 

Stiles sits on his bed, criss-crossed right in front of him. He has his hands open, and leans forward to rest his forehead against Derek’s. 

They sit like that until Derek is not gasping anymore and can close his eyes without hearing the screams. 

Stiles stands up, and before Derek reaches out and begs him to stay a little more, he grabs Derek from the shoulder and says, “Put your shoes on, I want to show you something.” 

Stiles drives, and before long Derek realizes they are heading to the Hale house. When they get there, Stiles parks his car by the side of the house leading to the garden. 

“Stiles-” Derek begins not knowing exactly what to say. 

“I know it's kinda shitty for me to bring you here of all places after that dream but I did something and it might not even do any good-” 

“Show me,” Derek interrupts. 

Stiles nods, and opens the door to his car. Derek follows him quietly to the garden, noticing that there are a lot more flowers than when he last saw it. Stiles walks to the center, where a pillar of sorts stands proudly. 

Derek goes near it, and realizes it's a plaque not a pillar. 

**“** **As they danced in the light, love lifted them. As they brushed against this world so gently, they lifted us. In loving memory of Talia Hale, Sam Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Charlotte and Timothy Hale.” **

“Derek, look around at what you are building for them- for you. They deserved this house as much as you do. Do not let that memory erase all the other good ones.” Stiles says, determined. 

Derek smiles. Of course, Stiles is right. He may not entirely believe him right now but he thinks he could get there- with Stiles. 

Derek steps closer to Stiles and pulls him close. 

“Are you finally going to kiss me?” Stiles whispers, his face glowing.

Derek does. 

_ You could stay _

_ You _

_ Combat, I'm ready for combat _


End file.
